Michael Petro, originally from Boston, USA, is a Jesuit in formation, currently serving refugees and migrants in Beirut, Lebanon, with JRS Lebanon. His work has two parts: on one hand, he accompanies communities of migrant workers in Lebanon who are facing serious challenges; on the other, he is also part of the JRS advocacy team at the regional office.

Since 7 October last year, conflict has gripped southern Lebanon and the Bekaa Valley. The situation slowly escalated until, around 23 September, when it rapidly intensified. Since then, everything has changed for JRS Lebanon.

Ordinarily, we run several programmes focused on education, mental health and psychosocial support, livelihood training, reconciliation efforts, and family assistance in the informal refugee camps across the Bekaa Valley and Baalbek, as well as for urban refugees in Bourj Hammoud, a suburb of Beirut. However, since the conflict erupted, we have stopped all regular projects and shifted entirely to emergency response.

The government has opened over a thousand shelters across the country for Lebanese displaced persons and our staff have started to respond to the basic needs of the people living in these shelters. However, the demand for safe shelter surged rapidly, and government shelters quickly reached full capacity, while also refusing to admit migrants. In response, we decided to open the doors of JRS at the Jesuit church’s Arrupe Migrant Centre (AMC) and of a Jesuit monastery located in the mountains, about 45 minutes from Beirut.

The terrible part of this situation is that we sometimes have to refuse to take people in because we do not have enough space. Every day, we receive calls from those in need of safe shelter, but we are unable to offer them a place.

Currently, we are providing shelter to around 110 people, both migrants and refugees. Our two shelters have hosted approximately 160 people in total, some of whom have managed to find accommodation elsewhere. We are working to expand our second site to accommodate more people and ensure we can provide them with food, water, and all the essentials they require.

The Arrupe Migrant Centre

Since my arrival in Lebanon, my primary responsibility has been at the urban migrant centre, a project of the Jesuits. It is a parish that also houses the regional office of JRS. We have been supporting migrant workers for 40 years. This space serves as a gathering point for migrants, where they can spend time together.

Over the years, we have seen this place evolve into a vibrant community hub, not just for migrant workers and refugees from Syria, but also for refugees from the Philippines, Sri Lanka, Sudan, South Sudan, Ethiopia, and other parts of Africa.

Each week, during Mass, Fr Dan Corrou SJ, JRS Regional Director for the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), warmly greets those who arrive with the words, “Welcome home.” Every Mass begins this way.

For migrant workers, many of whom are far from their families and have no home in Lebanon, hearing this message repeatedly helps them to believe it-which is good because it’s true. For many, this church has become a true home away from home.

When the conflict erupted, people naturally sought refuge in the church. On the evening of 23 September, a migrant woman, who was already a member of our community, called me to ask if she and her five children could come to the church. From that moment, more and more people began to arrive, many of whom had walked overnight from Nabatieh, a town in the south heavily affected by bombing.

It took 18 hours to reach their destination. Among those who arrived were some pregnant women and who had just given birth. Her baby was only three days old when they reached our parish. Both mother and child are doing well now.

The JRS shelters are fortunately quite protected from attacks due to their location. Just across the street from the Migrant Centre lies a neighbourhood called Basta, a Shia area where some of our staff live. It has been hit multiple times by missiles and air strikes, with some of the attacks occurring around 600 metres from our shelter, and even closer to where some of our staff reside.

Although there are daily attacks, however, the geography of the area means that we don’t hear much of them. The same is true for the shelter in the hills, a stone building situated several kilometres from Beirut. The sounds of drones and explosions are constant, but we are not in a direct target zone, which allows us to provide safety and protection for the people we serve.

However, even if the violence may be concentrated in a particular area, it is still indiscriminate. It is just not in our area.

The challenges of migrants in Lebanon

The people we serve are not just refugees; many are migrant workers who have been displaced. Some of the refugees are now facing their third displacement. Displacement has been a constant throughout their lives. After months of conflict, we are beginning to witness the full impact of this ongoing crisis, with uncertainty weighing heavily on many.

Many of the migrant workers we serve feel they cannot leave because they must continue working to support their children or family members who rely on their weekly remittances. Despite the emergency, these pressures are still real. These challenges are made worse by the conflict itself, with an urgent need for psychosocial support and safe spaces for shelter.

There are still migrants and refugees living on the streets. With winter approaching, the situation grows even more dire. Winter in Lebanon is not just cold; it is also wet and rainy. Staying outdoors during Lebanon’s harsh winter cannot be an option.

The solidarity of the displaced

In the early days of the escalation of the conflict, some of our staff, especially those from the Bekaa valley, were displaced very quickly. Among them, I am thinking of one of the women from our project in Baalbek who came straight to the Migrant Centre, ready to offer support. There are also some of our regional staff members who have been displaced and are now living in the Jesuit residence next to the regional office. They have been a great support for the shelter as well.

Our displaced staff made sure to take care both of their families and of all the families who were knocking on our door looking for help, making sure they were safe. This act of solidarity truly moved me.

The Kingdom of God

Attending Mass is a core part of my commitment as a Jesuit. However, in this time of emergency, it has become increasingly difficult due to my hectic schedule. Not long ago, after a particularly gruelling day, Fr Dan offered to say Mass on my behalf. We gathered in the small chapel of the church. This church, which is our home, and is truly a beautiful space.

Though it was night, many people were waiting to attend Mass. Inside, it was dark and silent, save for the distant hum of drones overhead. As we sat together in the intimate chapel, I looked around and saw who was there. There was me, Fr Dan, migrant workers who had come to help those in need since day one, there were men, women, and children who had taken refuge here. People from different parts of the world, from Sri Lanka, the Philippines, Palestinians and Sudanese.

We were all gathered in this small space, in this small side chapel. We were few, and it was so dark outside.

The light was really dim and there were drones outside. The smallness of the Kingdom of God really touched me, as if it were so fragile, but also so full of life. We were safe there and those people were ok. We were together, praying and supporting one another, looking after each other. That was a very real moment of the smallness of it and of the expansive grace of it.

The hope for a peaceful home

Our first hope is peace. A peace that can lead to a just reconciliation. Because I believe that the reason there is war is that there is something wrong, something deeply wrong. I hope that those who want to return home can do so.

Many of our refugee brothers and sisters have been waiting for over a decade for resettlement, and Lebanon is not a safe place for people to wait. This shows what happens when policies don’t work when resettlement doesn’t work for those who need it. Many of those living in our shelters cannot come back home. For some, the homes they had built have been destroyed, as have those in their countries of origin. Where will they end up? I hope for a peace that will bring some honesty, some justice.